


I could live a thousand lives, and I know I won’t be happy

by FrauFeuerengel



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Bittersweet, M/M, POV First Person, Past Drug Addiction, Songfic, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 16:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrauFeuerengel/pseuds/FrauFeuerengel
Summary: A songfic, based on “Never Enough” by Aesthetic Perfection. Alone in his hotel room on tour, Richard looks back and wonders where things went so wrong, and if they’ll ever be right again.





	I could live a thousand lives, and I know I won’t be happy

_ I sweep across the land in vain, _  
_ Like locusts swarming in the breeze. _  
_ I want for nothing, yet I keep _  
_ Exercising futility. _

I look at the man peering out at me from the glass of yet another hotel mirror, and I barely recognize him anymore. The odd grey flecks gelled in with the black spikes. The kohl smearing into the creases around his eyes. 

The stranger looks tired, my god, so tired. It seems like just yesterday we were throwing stones at that concrete monument to Soviet insecurity...but no, it’s been thirty years and now I’m the one who’s insecure. Can you believe it? Me. The diva. 

Maybe I always was. Shoving the void full of white powder and warm brunettes so I could pretend it wasn’t there.

_Success is ashes on my tongue,_  
_ Remain unhappy though I'm loved._  
_ I know I'm foolish and I'm young,_  
_ But can't you see it's not enough?_

I’ve always been a perfectionist, it’s the worst-kept secret in the music industry. But this is the one thing I can’t seem to get right. You confessed to me that androgyny did it for you. I let them sew me into that fucking crimson gown, just for you. And you laughed. My favorite sound in the world and with it, you destroyed me. Then you went through your phase of being drawn in by hypermasculinity. I spent every spare waking moment in the gym for months. For you. The fans noticed, particularly the women, but it meant nothing to me. It apparently meant nothing to you, either. I “looked good.” And that was all.

_I'm not satisfied,_  
_It's all or nothing,_  
_ There's no peace of mind for me,_  
_ And even though I try,_  
_ My greedy heart is hungry,_  
_ I'm not satisfied,_  
_ You see?_

It’s a rare occasion anymore that anyone speaks of us as separate entities. Back then, we would drunkenly fall into bed beside one another—nothing untoward, just two lonely men who struck out and craved the feeling of another warm body beside them. Then we grew up, clinging to each other for stability in the storms we each weathered. 

But it’s not enough anymore. I’ve crawled into bed now, and this emptiness in my chest is now laying beside me, as well.

_I've seen much more than most could hope,_  
_Accomplished dreams and traveled roads._  
_Through all my lovers I have grown,_  
_Just not enough to make a home._

Marieke. Tatjana. Caron. Margaux. Evgenia. The same lesson, over and over again, each time with a new face and a new name. You’d think by now I’d learn, and yet you’re on the other side of the wall. A Russian tonight...I can hear her giggling and squealing. “You’re like a bear!” she cackles happily. I said that once and you brushed it off as the Jaegermeister talking. I never tried again.

_There's no religion, there's no god,_  
_Who'll fill this emptiness I've got._  
_What good's belief when it is wrong?_  
_Just gimme more because I'm not!_

We never believed in anything but the music. We always said that if there is a God, He’s got an awful lot to answer for. Your father, my stepfather, and those jackbooted thugs with the blessing of that balding, bespectacled fuck. But some of us create a god in our own image, and I imagine Him as a gentle giant with eyes of seafoam green and lips drawn into a feminine bow, forever smirking like they’re holding in a dirty joke I don’t know.

_And I could live a thousand lives,_  
_And I know I won't be happy,_  
_I'm not satisfied with me._

It’s in your hands now, my love. And if you never speak of it again...I’ll hold my tongue and pray that you feel differently in our next life. Because we’ll find each other again.

I think we always do.


End file.
